


Motherhood in a Handful of Shards

by Ms_FangTooth



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, RipFic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_FangTooth/pseuds/Ms_FangTooth
Summary: Five snapshots of the relationship between Mary Xavier and Rip Hunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marAA24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marAA24/gifts).



> This was written for marAA24 for the Rip Hunter Discord Chat fic exchange. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to beta it, so I'm posting it as-is. We live and die like un-betaed men here.

It was a quiet evening at the Refuge.  The children were all snug in their beds, no dawdlers for once, and Mary Xavier was settling into her favorite armchair, cup of tea in hand when she heard the sudden noise at the front door.

It wasn’t a knock, not quite, but it was too deliberate to be a mere gust of wind.  It was certainly not a scheduled visit, not at this hour, and Mary Xavier dismissed the thought of an accidental visitor.  The Time Masters were very thorough when it came to choosing isolated locations for their Refuges. They would not risk contamination of their young recruits.  And while she appreciated that the children would be valuable targets for any of the numerous enemies of the Time Masters, she suspected that attackers would be unlikely to stop quietly at her doorstep.

The surveillance system, a gift from the Time Masters who would not leave their recruits unprotected, showed a single waning life sign.  This visitor was injured, perhaps dying. She opened the door.

Her visitor must have been leaning all of his weight on the door, for as it opened, he fell like a sack of potatoes at her feet.  She could tell immediately that he was a Time Master, and from his age and anachronistic clothing, she guessed he was a Captain. He was in terrible condition. He looked as though he had been starved and beaten and his skin gave off a dreadful heat.  His eyes were glassy and unfocused as they settled on her. “Mother,” he whispered.

Mary Xavier knew all of her children.  This man was not one of them. At least, she thought wryly, he wasn’t one of them yet.  Which meant that this man was a criminal, a violator of the Time Council’s strictest edicts.  Her duty was clear.

As she examined the man, Mary Xavier remembered the day that Magister Druce first presented the idea of a Refuge.  The Time Masters were a dying generation, he had explained. The young men and women that they recruited to replenish their ranks simply could not withstand the rigorous curriculum of the Academy.  Those few who made it through were willful and defiant, disloyal, unable or unwilling to bend to the Council’s edicts. Most simply could not be trusted with the vast responsibility of protecting time.

Magister Druce believed that the answer was to recruit earlier.  Children, the Magister believed, both had the flexibility of mind to adapt to the necessary training and could be trained to the level of discipline necessary for the pressures of their role.  There were many children out there who were doomed by history to die cold, hungry or sick. They could give those children a chance to live instead as part of something greater.

The Magister’s proposal was approved immediately, and he came to her.  She had been a captain herself then. Her strategic abilities had been unexceptional, but she had earned a reputation for competence and integrity.  He felt that she, of all of the Time Masters, possessed the necessary temperament, patience and wisdom to take charge of the Refuge. She suspected he had other reasons for this decision, but agreed, with a clarification: if she would be mother to these new orphans, she was going to be their mother in deed as well as name.  Her sole focus would be on them and their well being. To that end, she asked to be released from her oaths as a Time Master and took a new name entirely.

Druce had agreed with a patronizing smile.  But he never understood. None of the Council did.  On their pedastals, they only knew their grand designs, they had forgotten, or never knew, what it meant to hold a child in their arms.  She could sense their bemusement as she took her name from figures of Earth’s vast folklore: a first century Levantine woman who bore a deity from her body and a twentieth century American man who became the father, by heart if not blood, of a nation of demigods.  The Magister approved, for he liked the comparison of his new generation to Earth’s divinity. But Mary Xavier hadn’t chosen the name to exalt her children, but rather to remind herself that even the gods needed a parent’s love.

Magister Druce would expect Mary Xavier to report this man.  Mary Xavier would do no such thing.

“At any rate,” she told her semi-conscious guest, “you’re hardly in a condition to answer any questions.”  When she determined he was safe to move, she pulled him upright, an arm over her shoulder. “We can’t very well leave you for the children to stumble over.”

It took a lot of persistent coaxing to get the young man moving, and even then, Mary Xavier was holding up most of his weight.  But he did shift himself unerringly in the direction of the infirmary, which, along with his trusting obedience, seemed to confirm that he was one of hers.

Some time later, she had the boy settled into one of the infirmary beds, with a privacy curtain drawn around him.  Despite appearances, the Refuge’s medical facilities were state of the art. These children were the future of the Time Masters, after all, and the Council would take no chances when it came to their safety and well-being.  The beds were her own insistence, for no child could recover easily in an unforgiving sickbay chair. In seconds, he was under sedation and the diagnostic computer could do what it needed.

With the young man settled, Mary Xavier decided it was time to get a few answers.  She knew where to look: her guest certainly hadn’t just materialized out of the ether.  There must be a ship somewhere close by, as the young man certainly wouldn’t have been capable of walking far.

It was cloaked, of course, but she found it easily by following the trail of damaged grass and foliage left in her guest’s wake.  He had avoided the main clearing that the Time Masters normally used for their ships, opting instead for the edge of the treeline.  It was impressive that he had managed to land the ship without damaging any of the trees. She wouldn’t have thought he was capable of such a feat in his condition, which meant that he likely had a conspirator.

She felt the edge of the ship carefully.  Once she might have been able to identify its type, even without seeing it.  But that was a lifetime ago. Now Mary Xavier didn’t bother to try. Instead, she felt gently for the wall of the ship and spoke.  “You brought him here for a reason. I think we need to talk.”

At first she didn’t think she would get a response, but then, almost reluctantly, the ship’s doors opened.  She stepped inside. The corridors had been dark; likely an attempt to avoid detection through energy emission, but they lit as she approached the bridge.  She saw no sign of any other humans. But there was of course always one other being on a Time Master ship.

Mary Xavier cleared her throat gently and waited.  It wasn’t long before the console before her flared to life.  A bright blue holographic head appeared. “Why are you here?” Mary Xavier was surprised to hear a sharp, accusatory tone in the AI’s pleasant feminine voice.  It had been years, decades even, since Mary Xavier had substantial interaction with an AI, but she hadn’t remembered Gaheris being nearly so expressive. “You’re supposed to be fixing him!”

“You brought him here.”  Mary Xavier said, fascinated in spite of herself.  AIs were of course programmed to see to the wellbeing of their Captains, but they were still constrained by Time Master law.  The idea that one might willingly cross her Captain’s timeline to save him was absolutely extraordinary.

“I found the information in his dreams,” the AI said.  “The coordinates were not precise, I was not able to ensure that we would arrive at the right time.  We’re here too early.”

“A little bit.”  Mary Xavier agreed.  “Are you in need of diagnostic or repair yourself?”  She considered the Captain’s injuries, they were terrible, but certainly not beyond the scope of a Time Ship’s sickbay.

“I am not malfunctioning.”  The AI snapped back defensively.  “And my sickbay is fine.” There was a moment of silence, in which Mary Xavier admired the facsimile of fear and worry in the AI’s voice.  “I can repair the damage. I’ve done it before. But this time is different. I can’t fix him where it matters.”

Mary Xavier glanced at the console.  Their last location was still on the screen: Westchapel, England, 2166 A.D.    “What happened?”

The AI began to explain, “There was a man named Vandal Savage . . ."

 

\--

 

Mary Xavier’s mind was reeling when the AI finished her explanation.  A secret family, a desparate attempt to undo history, of course the AI had not hesitated to help her Captain cross his timeline.  Not when his list of crimes was apparently so much longer. Apparently she had raised quite an over-achiever.

“Please,” The AI said, earnest and insistent.  Mary Xavier didn’t believe that it was a facsimile anymore.  Somehow, it was genuine. “He needs help, and I don’t know what else I can do.  I don’t want to lose him.”

Mary Xavier should be contacting Druce right now.  There was a difference between a child’s mistake and this deliberate and repetitive violation of the laws of Time.  This one man’s actions could have a catastrophic effect on the entire timeline. And somehow, he had even incited his AI in his rule breaking.  For the safety of the universe, she should be insisting on a communication channel, and ordering the AI to turn herself in.

“What should I call him?”  She asked, instead.

 

\--

 

Rip Hunter awoke to confusion.  The last thing he remembered was pleading, or more accurately begging, Gideon to go back to Whitechapel just one more time.  Damn her, he thought viciously. He had tried so many times, going back earlier and earlier, to find some way to get Miranda and Jonas to safety.  Every time he’d burst through that door, every time he would see his wife’s pleasantly surprised face collapse into concern and fear, every time he’d grip his son’s tiny hands in his own.  And every time it would end the same way. He would be separated from them, in that crucial moment, and then Savage would be there. And then…

And he would try again. Those last times, (god, how many were there?), he hadn’t even given a word of explanation.  He’d just grabbed Miranda’s arm, tight enough to bruise, and shouted for Jonas. She trusted him enough to follow his lead.  For all the good that it did. Just once more might have been the difference. Or it might have finally killed him.

He remembered the quote often misattributed to Albert Einstein, that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.  He had always thought that the quote betrayed the anonymous writer’s poor knowledge of the scientific method. But he had to admit, the quote seemed to be accurate. Gideon had been right to refuse, of course, he admitted now, though the admission turned his stomach into lead.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been necessary at all had he not failed at the crucial juncture.  When he had Vandal Savage, then Hath-Set, at his mercy in Egypt, that had been before he had discovered immortality, before the worst of his crimes.  Rip still didn’t know whether it was some lingering doubt or shred of morality that stayed his hand, but it meant that the blood of every single one of Vandal Savage’s countless victims over the next millennia stained Rip’s own hands.  What kind of man could fail to act at that moment? What kind of husband or father?

“I think that’s enough of that,” the crisp voice that startled him out of his recriminations was blessedly familiar.  He realized that somehow he was in the Refuge’s infirmary, and for one split second Rip wondered if none of it had happened, if it had all been some child’s fevered nightmare.  But it wasn’t of course. The cosmos was never so kind. Still, how on Earth had he gotten here?

Mary Xavier pressed a button on the machines which, Rip realized belatedly, had been giving off a shrill alarm.  They had been reacting to his stress, no doubt. They should see him on a bad day, Rip thought frivolously. “Mother, how…”

Mother smiled at him gently.  “Your AI loves you very much.”  A new guilt flooded him as he remembered the horrific accusations he had shouted at her during those last few attempts, when she kept trying to get him to stop.  He hadn’t cared about her then. All he had cared about was trying just one more time.

“Nonsense.”  She said, though he hadn’t said a word.  She always had been able to read him like an open book.  “She understands that you are hurt and grieving. She doesn’t blame you.”  Even so, she deserved better.

“Mother, what I’ve done…”  He didn’t even know where to begin.  What would she think of him?

“What’s done is done.”  She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close to her.  Her warmth made him tremble. “But you have to decide what you’re going to do next.”

“I can’t give up on them.”  Rip said. “I can’t. I’ve failed them already, I can’t fail them again.”  He knew what he should do though. “I’ll go to the Council. I’ll tell them what I’ve done.  I’ll take whatever punishment they give me. But they’ll help me, they have to. What Savage has done, is doing, they’ll see that he needs to be stopped.”  Won’t they? But he saw the faint frown cross his mother’s face. “They might say no. I have to be ready if they say no.”

Slowly, Mary Xavier released him and stood.  “You should go. Your wounds are healed and the children will awaken soon.  There will be questions if you’re found here.”

“Yes, of course.”  He didn’t feel better, per se, how could he?  But he felt calmer now, more focused. He had a goal and he would see it through.  He turned back for one last, grateful hug.

“Whatever you do, Michael.”  His mother said, “don’t do it alone.”


	2. Chapter 2

The young man left not a moment too soon.  Mary Xavier had just returned from seeing him off to find a communication from Druce.

“I’ve found a new recruit.”  The Magister had said, and his face wore a strange, triumphant look.  “I’ll be bringing him by today.” He did not ask for permission, which was rare.  While it was understood of course that the Refuge belonged to the Time Masters, Magister Druce customarily preferred to keep up the appearance of civility.  Moreover, it had been one of her terms when she agreed to take this position that she, and only she, would determine the appropriate amount of contact between the Time Masters and their charges prior to their departure to the Academy.  The Council might have balked on general principle to the idea that a jumped up ship captain could dictate terms to them, but as it was, very few Time Masters had any experience with or patience for small children. As long as Mary Xavier was able to provide them with young people able to withstand the rigors of training, they were happy to allow her the freedom to do so.

At darker moments, Mary Xavier sometimes wondered if she were simply a procurer, mass producing young people simply to suffer and die serving the Council’s schemes.  Generally speaking, she had almost no contact with her young charges after they graduated to the Academy. There was no explicit rule, but the Time Masters discouraged attachments in their recruits, preferring instead to foster independence and self-reliance.  Mary Xavier had a moment to wonder if this practice was as much for her benefit as for the recruits’. She would never see what her children become after they leave her. She thought of the broken young man she met last night. Was that the fate that awaited all of her children?

Druce’s arrived in the mid-afternoon, while the children were at play.  He was a frequent enough visitor that none of the children took much notice of his revival, preferring instead to focus on their games.  He descended from his ship, resplendent in his council robes, followed by a small, anxious little figure.

“Magister.”  Mary Xavier greeted him, while studying the child.  There was something oddly familiar about the child, but she could not quite pinpoint what it was.  She could see that he was in bad shape: painfully thin, in outsized clothing more patch than fabric.  He was hollow-eyed and filthy. She raised an eyebrow at Druce. “Was there no time to see him bathed or fed first?”

Druce simply looked at her quizzically, and Mary Xavier suppressed a sigh.  Truth be told, she had never considered herself to have much in the way of maternal instincts before she took her position, but compared to the rest of the Time Masters, well, in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man would be king.

The child, for his part, looked absolutely terrified, and held his body with a tension that told Mary Xavier that he was about to bolt.  It would serve Druce right, she thought, if he had to chase a small child down while wearing those robes. But fortunately, Mary Xavier knew the best way to distract a hungry child.

Minutes later, she had the boy sitting at the dining room table, looking awestruck at a very large bowl of soup.  When he realized that she wasn’t going to take it away from him, he started gulping it down immediately. Mary Xavier sighed slightly, realizing that table manners would have to be among the first of the boy’s new lessons.

“I found him in Victorian London,” Druce said quietly to her while the boy was occupied

While dressed like that?  She shook her head. She wished it surprised her that Druce would take the time to change his own clothes rather than see to a child’s needs.

“He tried to pick my pocket,” Druce sounded almost proud, “he might have succeeded too, if not for a little bad luck.”

“I’m assuming that you didn’t bring him here because he was a good thief.”  Mary Xavier commented.

“No.  Though he fits our qualifications of new recruits very well.  Look at these scans.” He produced a scanner for her and she frowned at what she saw.  The readings looked very wrong for a child from Victorian London. There were the expected signs of long time malnutrition and neglect, but beyond that, the child’s bone density and dental structure all seemed to indicate an origin of three or four hundred years later.

“How in the world did this child end up in Victorian England?”

“He recognized the Time Vortex, though I’m sure he didn’t know what he was looking at.  And he understands the basic concept of time travel better than a child twice his age” She wondered exactly how long Magister Druce spent interrogating the boy as opposed to actually feeding him.  “He’ll need special training and preparation, of course.”

“He needs food, safety, and comfort, Magister.  He is a child.”

“You’ll see to that, of course.” Druce said.  “You know of course that we have ways of determining even our own futures, and I can tell that this child will be the greatest of us.  Or he will bring about our destruction. I will not allow this opportunity to be wasted.”

Personally, Mary Xavier thought that the idea of divining the future was poppycock.  As with all time travelers, the Time Masters could easily go any event in the past or the future of the timeline, but when it came to their own futures, they were as lost as anyone else.  All that really mattered was that there was a child in need.

After seeing Druce off, she returned to the kitchen, where the child was slurping the last of his soup out of his bowl.  “Why don’t I show you to your room?” She offered, and smiled as the child’s eyes widened with delight. “Now, before we continue.  My name is Mary Xavier. What is your name?”

“My name is Michael,” the boy said.  Ah, of course.


	3. Chapter 3

Young Michael had been at the Refuge for six months when she received a communication from her late night visitor.  This time she recognized him immediately, of course. He was looking better, she thought. His face, while thin, did not appear to be on the brink of starvation, and his eyes were sharp and focused.

“Mother,” he said, and his voice was clear and confident.  “I’m sorry to ask, but I need your help.”

“Of course,” she said, immediately.  “What do you need?”

“Is this a secure channel?”  Mary Xavier raised her eyebrows, but pressed a button effectively scrambling the connection to any outside devices.  At her nod, he relaxed a little, “Good, Gideon’s scrambling it too, but I can’t take any chances.”

Michael explained quickly: she learned that, unsurprisingly, his attempt to obtain help from the Council had been fruitless.  He had in fact gone rogue instead. He had been anxious about her reaction to that, but Mary Xavier had always known that she loved her children more than she loved the Time Masters.  He gave her a quick summary of what happened since: the formation of his new crew, the origin of Chronos (how barbaric, but again, not terribly surprising), and finally the Omega Protocol.

If Mary Xavier had been a less disciplined woman, she would have sworn out loud.  What on Earth was Druce thinking? After six months with the boy, she could have told Druce that the backing Michael into the corner would just lead to more desperate measures.  And indeed, that’s what happened, and now Michael had three infants and two young adults that needed a safe place to hide.

“You may bring them here.”  Mary Xavier said immediately.  The infirmary could easily be converted to a nursery for the infants, and it should be easy enough to keep the older two out of sight.  Honestly, she wasn’t sure that would even be necessary, since she wasn’t sure that the average Council member would even notice that there were a few extra faces.  Even granting that two were nearly adult.

It didn’t take long for Michael to arrive, bringing his bewildered crew in tow.  She had a vague idea of who they were because of a dossier sent by an aghast Gideon.  She had to admit that a former assassin, two violent criminals, and some rookie superheroes would not have been her first thought when it came to recruiting a team that would take on a monster like Vandal Savage.  But apparently, they were actually doing quite well, according to Gideon’s missives.

She probably should have a word with her son about the way that his AI was better at keeping in touch with his mother than he was.

The crew was good for Michael, she saw.  She couldn’t help but compare the man who had contacted her today with the man as she had last seen him.  The difference was extraordinary. This Michael was alert and focused, driven but not mindlessly so. His pain, though still palpable, appeared less all-encompassing.  And Michael cared very much for his crew. So much so that he had been willing to risk everything to save them.

Mary Xavier could still hardly believe that she had agreed to allow her son to use  _ himself _ as bait for the Pilgrim.  There were so many ways that could have gone badly.  And she certainly was not happy that the young Michael, after months of safety and security, was once more sleeping with a knife under his pillow.  He had taken the whole experience surprisingly well, but Mary Xavier had the sinking feeling that it was because he hadn’t yet learned to expect better from the adults in his life.

Well, she thought as she watched the boy sleep.  That is something that she intended to change going forward.  She would make sure that young Michael had at least one adult that he could come to, and trust unreservedly

And of course, that was exactly why the older Michael came to her to begin with.  Sometimes, even for Time Masters, time travel was a headache. Mary Xavier shook her head and went to get a drink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in my take on young Mick and Sara's experiences at the Refuge in this chapter, please check out my fic ["All names will soon be restored to their proper owners"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547364).


	4. Chapter 4

It was always bittersweet when one of Mary Xavier’s charges was ready to graduate into the Temporal Academy.  On one hand, she couldn’t be prouder of her children and their accomplishments and she had faith that they would go on to great things.  On the other hand, she knew how dangerous the life of a Time Master could be, and it was hard to ignore the fact that some of these children would be going on to a life of anguish and death.  No mother wanted that for her children.

It was worse when it was Michael’s turn.  Mary Xavier loved all of her children, but Michael had always been special to her.  And unlike her other children, she knew exactly what his life would be like. She had met him, after all.

Her Michael will grow up to be a good man.  He will be clever and brave and love beyond measure.  But the Time Masters will break him. She still remembered what he looked like when he came to pick up his teammates’ younger selves.  He had walked in like an old man, stoop shouldered and tired, and his eyes were haunted. He had refused to discuss what happened, and when he left, Mary Xavier was left with the impression of a wounded animal leaving to die.

He never came back.  And now, she was looking at his younger self, the little boy that she’d protected and nurtured for five years.  He looked so young, visibly trembling with excitement underneath his sharply creased new uniform. He’d already taken his new name, some ridiculous moniker that suited a swashbuckling heroic sort.  It was no worse than any other, to be fair, but Mary Xavier strove to forget it as soon as possible. He would always be Michael to her. All she wanted to do was shake him, and beg him to reconsider.   

“Are you all right, Mother?”  Her son looked at her with concerned eyes.  He was almost as tall as she was now, and he’d be taller still soon enough.  Now was her chance. She could tell him that it wasn’t worth it, that he could find another way to become a great man far away from Vanishing Point’s poison.

“I’m just very proud of you,” she smiled back, and gave him one last, warm embrace.  “You will keep in touch, I trust.” Of all of her children, she needed to know that he would keep in touch.

“Of course, Mother.”  He grinned and then went off to his destiny.  And if the tears in Mary Xavier’s eyes came more from despair than pride, who would ever know?

 

\--

 

As it happened, Michael was absolutely rubbish at keeping in touch, but his career was colorful enough that even at the Refuge, Mary Xavier had a good idea of what her son was up to.  She enjoyed hearing of his triumphs against the time pirates of Rann and his world saving alliance with the Justice League of Earth-32, she was amused by the rumors of illicit affairs in the Wild West and absurd rivalries with aliens, she had always known Michael would go far.

But then, she heard the alarming news: a taboo relationship between Time Captains, public disgrace before the Time Council, culminating in a resignation from one of the participants.  She’d gotten a communication directly from Michael afterward, assuring her that he was all right and asking her not to worry. She realized, with some dread, that the forces were all in motion, and that only she knew how everything would end.

And she said nothing, because what could she say?

The timeline self-corrects.  She knew that as well as anyone.  She remembered the older Michael’s story, his repeated attempts to defy the inevitable.  Would it do any good to warn him now? Or would he suffer more, knowing what was going to happen?

Michael’s disgrace was quickly forgotten as his career continued its meteoric rise.  Mary Xavier suspected that Druce had a hand in that.  At the time of the hearing, the gossip had been everywhere: the Time Council’s golden boy caught in a scandalous liaison with Vanishing Point’s most infamous wild card.  But now, no one said a word. Rip Hunter was a legend and Miranda Coburn, whose reputation had been on par with, or even exceeded her paramour’s, was all but forgotten.

This undoubtedly suited Druce quite well.  There was no one wondering why Vanishing Point’s two rising stars would be so willing to risk everything to be together.  There was no one questioning how the Time Council could be so quick to discard a Time Captain with a stellar performance record and undeniable loyalty, simply because she violated an arbitrary rule.  And there was no one who would notice that a former Time Captain managed to somehow settle herself in an area that would soon be a warzone.

It was disgusting, Mary Xavier thought.  And worse, she was still playing her part.  She was still dutifully sending her children off to join this despicable system.  But what could she do?

She couldn’t stop thinking about the problem.  She was thinking about it even as she got a coded communication requesting permission to land.  It was Michael, and he clearly was not here in any sort of official capacity. Of course it was granted.

“Michael!  It’s been a long time.”  She embraced him quickly, he was still wearing that ridiculous duster that made her wonder exactly what  _ had _ happened on that Wild West mission so long ago.  He was also not alone: a lovely dark-haired woman was standing with him.  Miranda Coburn, of course.

“Hello Mother.  I know I’m breaking so many rules right now, but I had to come.  This is Miranda, my wife.”

Miranda smiled, and then stepped back to reveal an achingly familiar tow-headed boy at her side.  He had his father’s eyes. “And this is Jonas.”

 

\--

 

Miranda watched indulgently as her husband swept their son off for an impromptu tour of the Refuge.  Usually, Miranda would have preferred to accompany them, but she was more interested in meeting this woman who had been such a staple in Rip’s life for so long.

“May I interest you in some tea, Ms. Coburn?” The woman asked, her manner brisk but not unwelcoming.

“Of course, thank you.”  She followed Mary Xavier into a small study where she was served.  The tea was amazing of course, but just a little too sweet. Miranda wondered if this was where her husband had gotten his infamous sweet tooth.

A part of Miranda had been dreading this meeting.  Very few cadets actually remained in contact with their Refuge mothers.  Miranda had been fond enough of her own, but hadn’t actually sent or received a message since a few years before her resignation.  It didn’t surprise her that Rip was different though. When Rip loved someone, he loved them fiercely and deeply, with the same incessant, obsessive focus that characterized everything he did.  He latched on, tight as a lamprey, to everyone important to him, and would never willingly abandon them.

It was his best and worst trait, and the reason that Miranda had insisted that he be the one to stay with the Time Masters.  The Time Masters worked so hard to stamp out any thread of individuality, passion, or connection in their recruits, but Rip just wasn’t built that way.   He gravitated toward people. He instinctively reached out to them. He made friends and allies as easily as breathing. And he made enemies just as easily.

Miranda had thought she hated him once, when he had been the rule-abiding golden boy who constantly challenged her for top rank in every class of the Academy.  She still remembered how delighted she had been when news of the Calvert scandal spread. She had made sure she would be at Vanishing Point just to see her rival’s disgrace.  And therefore, she had a front row seat as Rip Hunter answered the accusation that he had an improper attachment to a timeline native named Jonah Hex,  _ while wearing the man’s coat. _

And that’s when Miranda fell in love.

But it was also how she ended up here, face to face with her mother-in-law, and slightly afraid of her response.  Miranda wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done. She had made the right decision leaving the Time Masters. But would this woman see it that way?

“Please, tell me about yourself.”  Mary Xavier smiled warmly, and Miranda found herself talking enthusiastically about her work as a doctor in Whitechapel, the advantage and disadvantage that her Time Master training gave her when it came to working with the present day technology, and her efforts to improve the community.

“It’s odd, you know.”  She said, finally. “I always thought I would miss being a Time Master.  But I don’t. I feel very fulfilled with my life.”

“I understand completely, my dear.”  Mary Xavier said, and Miranda realized that she probably did.  The Refuge Mothers had been Time Masters once themselves, after all.  “I do occasionally miss proper French cuisine though. There is nothing to compare to 18th Century Paris.”

Miranda laughed.  “Or 13th Century Shanghai.  There was this tiny shop that made the most incredible dumplings.”

“You could go.”  Mary Xavier suggested delicately.  “You, Michael and Jonas. You could take the ship and do anything you wanted.  No one could stop you. You don’t have to settle anywhere.”

“We’ve talked about that,” Miranda said.  “But Jonas is still so young. We don’t want to put him under the stress of constant time travel until he’s a little bit older.  And Rip and I have our work.”

“Of course.”  Mary Xavier said, and easily shifted the topic to other matters.  When Rip and Jonas returned, they enjoyed a lovely lunch together.  Mary Xavier clearly adored Jonas, just as she had his father before him.  But too soon, it was time to leave.

As Mary Xavier escorted them to the ship, she pulled Miranda aside.  “Listen to me, please.” Her voice got a bit desperate. “Whitechapel isn’t safe.  Don’t go back. Find somewhere else. And whatever you do, do not trust Magister Druce.”  Then she straightened, smiled, and bid them farewell as though nothing had happened.

Miranda was about to speak, but then Rip gestured over to the pilot’s chair.  “Care to take the reins?” He asked with a grin and Miranda dove into the seat with a grin.  She would talk with Rip about Mary Xavier’s strange warning later.

 

\--

 

Mary Xavier watched the Waverider take off, hoping that the young woman would heed her warning, but already knowing that she wouldn’t.  Because she didn’t.

The feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed her.  What was the point of all of this? Soon, far too soon, her son will fall brokenly at her doorstep, having lost everything.  He would be tortured, exiled, hunted, and abandoned, and she couldn’t do anything to protect him.

She heard a squeal from one of the children playing outside and her thoughts changed course.  She couldn’t protect Michael. But perhaps she could protect these others. She walked into her office.  She had a communication to send.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary Xavier enjoyed her little cottage.  Early twenty-first century Bedfordshire would not have been her first choice to settle, but she found it comfortable.  One of the nice young men of the Justice League had found it for her, and she was very grateful.

Mary Xavier hadn’t known what would happen when she sent a communication to the Justice League, asking for help and asylum for her children.  She just knew that if anyone could protect these children from the Time Masters’ machinations, it would be these heroes. She had spoken to Batman directly, and she still remembered the way his jaw tightened behind his mask as she explained what the Refuge was and the intended fate of the children.

One of their number must have had access to time travel technology, as they came very quickly.  She had worried that the children might be intimidated, but the heroes quickly put them at ease.  They were very kind, Mary Xavier noticed appreciatively, and the children responded well to that. She did notice one of the members, a very handsome man in white and gold, looking into almost desperately into the face of each child he saw.

“Is something wrong?”

“I-no.  Nothing’s wrong.”  The man smiled, but the expression was as artificial as it was handsome.  There was a familiar sort of grief in his eyes. “I was just hoping-”

“What is your name?”

“Michael Carter.”  He said, “They call me Booster Gold.”

Mary Xavier had seen the name before.  Every cadet took an ancestral DNA scan before entering the Academy, so as to avoid a lot of the likely mishaps.  Michael Carter was looking in the right place, but years too late. “I’m sorry. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for here.”  He nodded stiffly, and left.

The children were settled into new, safe foster homes, or in a couple of cases, returned to their grieving parents.  Apparently, the Time Masters weren’t above violating their own rules when it came to particularly promising recruits.  Mary Xavier wished that surprised her. Mary herself was set free.

The Time Masters were not an issue, as it turned out.  Druce’s prophecy was right on both counts. She hoped Michael was well.

So now, Mary Xavier was enjoying a calm and pleasant retirement.  There had been some talk about possibly trying her as an accomplice to the Time Masters’ crimes, but the Justice League had argued for leniency.  She was released, with a restriction against ever contacting any of her former children again. She missed them, of course, but she agreed that it was for the best.

Mary had just returned from a pleasant stroll when she saw something strange and spherical outside her cottage.  She stepped inside to see a very welcome face. “Michael!”

He was clean-shaven and he wore a suit beneath Jonah Hex’s overcoat, and he looked tired.  She wondered how long it had been for him. “Hello, Mother.”

“How are you?”

“Dead.  Sort of.  It’s a long story.”  He was holding a couple of tiny silver balls in his hands.  “I blew up the Time Masters, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Or my team did.”

“Oh yes.”  She waited, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, then I built a Time Bureau.”  He shrugged sheepishly. “It didn’t go that well.”  He saw her expression. “They’re still standing. And they’re not evil.  But there was an issue of incompatible ideology.”

“And your team?”  She remembered how good they’d been for him in the past.

“We had a falling out.”  Michael said, regretfully.  “My fault. Of course. They think I’m dead.  That’s probably for the best” He seemed calm, but Mary Xavier had always known how to read her son.  She pulled him into a hug.

“So now what will you do?”

“I’m not sure yet.  But there are a lot of threats out there that the Bureau wouldn't know how to combat, and the Legends won’t know how to find.  I’m sure I can find something to do.” He grinned then. “I’ve got my Time Sphere back from Eobard at least.”

“Oh, so that’s what’s sitting outside my door.”

“Want to try it?”  He smiled shyly at her.

“You know what, I think I do.  How do you feel about going to Paris?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well, I couldn't leave things the way they were at the end of season 3. Comic book rules: no body = not dead!


End file.
